


Castiel and his League of Super-Powered Associates

by sarkywoman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkywoman/pseuds/sarkywoman
Summary: A crossover with DC Comics. Jimmy Novak, CEO of Novak Industries, is Castiel the Avenging Angel by night, bringing justice to the streets of Gotham. When Integriman the superhero of Metropolis asks him to protect his brother Dean, Castiel finds himself developing feelings he usually tries to avoid. But as Dean becomes the pawn in dark games played by the villainous Alastair and Crowley, Castiel struggles to decide where duty ends and obsession begins.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	Castiel and his League of Super-Powered Associates

**Author's Note:**

> Torture, language, intoxication, references to past prostitution, implied non-con. I'm also embarrassed enough by Balthazar's lame hero name to apologise for that.  
> Lesser pairings herein: Crowley/Dean, off-screen Sam/Jess, implied Alastair/Dean

They weren’t so much a ‘League of Superheroes’ as they were a self-help group for people with particularly bizarre lives. Sure, they had a moon-base, but that was only because the Holy Lantern got bored one Friday afternoon when he ran out of candy. Still, the media seemed to enjoy writing about their adventures as if saving the world was some sort of team sport, so the world’s mightiest superheroes never bothered to correct them. After all, they were all on civil terms with one another. Just the other day Princess Anna had required Balthasonic’s help in defeating the man-hating villainess Ruby, though her gratitude was dented by the super-fast man’s insistence on flirtation and euphemism.

Though alliances between the heroes were reasonably common, Castiel preferred to work alone. The others made fun of him for it, but such things made absolutely no impression on him. His streets were dangerous. Their work was dangerous. The type of monster that he hunted was far more twisted and lethal than the kind of villains the other heroes faced. Holy Lantern’s power ring-wielding enemies relied entirely on their alien technology at their own peril. Princess Anna faced off against primitive occult creatures or equally primitive warrior races whose inability to comprehend the modern world was always their downfall. Balthasonic’s rogue gallery was truly pathetic, comprised of petty thieves and probation violators. 

Integriman’s enemies were probably the most dangerous villains outside of Castiel’s territory. Integriman was famous for his phenomenal power, which tended to draw the attention of otherworldly beings who wanted to test their might against him. Not to mention Crowley, the genius businessman-turned-politician with an anti-Integriman agenda. Castiel made sure that his daytime persona, Novak Industries CEO Jimmy Novak, kept up an amicable business relationship with Crowley. That way he could keep an eye on the sneaky crook.

It wasn’t just the villains that Castiel kept an eye on though. His allies had to be transparent or he would be completely unable to trust them. While he would prefer to completely avoid working with others, sometimes it was unavoidable. It wasn’t unheard of for the others to get in over their heads and in the interest of world safety, Castiel would go to assist them. But that meant he had to trust them. And that meant knowing as much about them as possible.

Really it was just convenient that his ‘obsession’ was complemented by resources and genius. There was very little he had been unable to find out about his spandex-wearing colleagues.

The Holy Lantern was Gabriel Speight Jr, a comic-book fan from an oppressively religious family who had trained as a doctor until the family expectations finally drove him away. Now he ran a toy shop, when he wasn’t flying around the sky in a golden bubble making giant robots march down the street using his alien power ring.

Princess Anna was less secretive about her identity. She really was the princess of a little island warded by ancient magic that only permitted women to dwell there. Though all the women there possessed superhuman strength and speed, the Princess Anna was blessed beyond all of them. She was stronger, faster and able to fly. She also wielded a rope that forced people bound in it to speak truth. Still, Castiel had visited the island to ensure that her motives were good and that she was telling the truth about being the ambassador of her people.

Balthasonic lived a tragically mundane existence outside of his superheroic endeavours, so much so that he tended to keep his red and white spandex on most of the time. He picked up women and men in his costume, always wanted to chat to the reporters and had a nice little house paid for by the grateful taxpayers of his peaceful city. Balthasonic was a refreshingly simple soul. It was a relief actually, or the power to infiltrate a secure compound in the time most men could blink would be alarming.

Then there was Integriman. Sam Winchester. A freak meteor shower around his home when he was a baby killed his mother Mary and left his father John to raise him and his older brother Dean alone. When Sam developed his incredible powers in his teenage years it would have been easy to turn his attention to bitterness, as their father would undoubtedly have done. Luckily for the world, he had chosen to fight for what was right and defend the weak. He was a defence attorney in his ‘normal’ life and was considered an all-round nice guy by the other heroes. Be that as it may, Integriman possessed enough power to pose a considerable risk, so Castiel was always carrying a piece of the meteor rock that had bestowed Sam’s powers. A chemical reaction had originally caused the strange mutations that had led Sam to be able to fly, lift trains, shoot lasers from his eyes and move almost as fast as Balthasonic. Extensive testing had failed to provide Castiel an explanation, but exposing Sam to the same meteor rock temporarily deprived him of his powers. 

None of the other heroes knew that Castiel had investigated each of them. He doubted any of them were aware of his secret identity. Balthasonic and Holy Lantern would undoubtedly have invited themselves to live at Novak Manor by now, if they had known that Castiel was actually billionaire Jimmy Novak. Although Castiel didn’t care about the opinions his super-powered colleagues had of him, it was easier to save lives when they trusted him.

Case in point: A call from Integriman on the communicator requesting his assistance immediately.

“Where are you?” Castiel growled into the communicator. He was sat in his underground base of operations, analysing the seemingly random sequence of recent attacks by Alastair.

“Some lab somewhere…”

“Is it Crowley’s doing?” Although the man was a genius, his plans did seem to follow certain patterns. He had been laying low on the criminal front lately to reinforce his current image of rehabilitation.

“I don’t think so, but that doesn’t matter right now. I’ll get out of this.”

“Then why are you calling?” Castiel growled. Nothing was more irritating than being called to a scene that had already been dealt with. It was such a waste of his time.

“Because I have a brother and somehow they know it. The goons were taunting me about it. They’re going after him. I can save myself but Castiel, I need you to save him. Dean Winchester. He works down at the Roadhouse bar by…”

Castiel cut him off. “I know the place.” He had Dean’s records of employment just as he had the details of every other hero’s family and friends. “I’ll get him.”

“Wait! Castiel, he…he doesn’t know what I do. I didn’t tell him, I thought he would be safer not knowing.”

“A wise choice. I will continue to keep your secret if it is in my power to do so.” Though the best way to protect loved ones would be to cut them out of your life entirely, secrecy was the alternative preferred by most of Castiel’s colleagues.

“Thanks. I don’t know how much longer I can hold this line, so I’m just going to warn you that Dean can be a little abrasive. Don’t take it personally, he’s a nice guy underneath.”

“Hurry up and save yourself. I will do what I can for your brother.” Castiel terminated the connection and rushed to his car. The papers called it the Angelmobile, a name derived from their tendency to call him the Avenging Angel whenever ‘Castiel’ was not sensational enough for their headlines.

He sped through the city streets in his black vehicle, wondering who aside from Crowley could have such a personal vendetta against Integriman as to go after his family. But then it was that very element of this situation that proved this wasn’t Crowley’s doing. If Crowley had discovered Integriman’s secret identity then it would all be over by now. It was all deeply troubling – some unsavoury character out there knew the true life of Earth’s mightiest hero. While Sam was no super-genius, he was rather intelligent and took measures against such discovery. Castiel had not found it easy to learn his secrets. But someone else out there had found the truth.

The Roadhouse was actually in Castiel’s territory, Gotham City. Interesting, because Sam Winchester lived in the shiny city of Metropolis. Why would his brother choose the darker, more dangerous streets of Gotham?

While driving, Castiel tapped at the touch-screen computer system in the car, bringing up an image of Dean Winchester to jog his memory. Dark blond hair, freckles, striking green eyes, full lips, a strong and fit physique, slightly bow-legged. The computer also loaded his criminal history. Petty thievery, false identification, illegal firearms possession, a few counts of assault and…

Castiel blinked and was forced to swerve to bring his car back to his original path. He switched off the distracting computer screen. He had learned all he needed to know about Dean Winchester, the shadow cast by the world’s brightest star. He pulled up down the side of the Roadhouse bar and restaurant and climbed out of his car.

A scream and a smash of glass from inside the bar spurred Castiel into a sprint. He threw open the back door and flew into action immediately, his split cape billowing as he knocked the guns from the hands of three masked men. A young blonde ran to the side of an older woman brandishing a shotgun, but since that was aimed at the two men currently punching Dean Winchester, Castiel felt he could leave that for the moment.

He heaved one of the men back from Dean by his collar and punched him in the face. The reinforced knuckles of his gloves sent the man reeling. As he turned around, Dean had wrestled his other attacker to the ground so Castiel returned to beating down the three men he had already disarmed. Soon the only conscious masked man was the one grappling with Dean Winchester on the dirty bar floor.

Castiel knelt down and shoved Dean aside so that he could grip the throat of the masked man.

“Who sent you?” he growled.

The man just shook his head. He probably would have laughed, if not for the clench of Castiel’s hand around his throat.

“ _Tell me_!” Castiel snarled.

“Think you’re scary?” The man choked out.

“I think he is,” the blonde girl said.

“Shush Jo,” the older woman snapped.

“There’s scarier,” the man taunted. “The butcher of Gotham…”

“Alastair,” Castiel whispered under his breath. Alastair had never shown any interest in Integriman before. He preferred twisted mind games with Castiel in the dark streets of Gotham.

Sirens grew louder outside. He had to go. But since Dean was still potentially in danger, there was no sense in leaving him behind. Castiel slammed the masked man’s head down against the floor hard enough to knock him out. Then he stood and pulled Dean up to his feet.

“Holy crap, you’re Castiel the Avenging Angel.” Dean stared at him with awe.

“We need to leave,” Castiel said firmly. “Follow me.”

“Wait, what?”

How Dean could have misinterpreted that, Castiel did not know. “You are in danger. You must come with me.”

“Whoa,” said the girl, Jo. “How come?”

“And what exactly are we supposed to do with these morons?” asked the older woman that Castiel was beginning to suspect was Jo’s mother. She prodded one of the unconscious men with her boot.

“The cops will take care of that,” Castiel reassured them. “They will be here momentarily.” He turned to Dean once more. “You must come with me. Now.”

“Why would anyone be after me?” Dean asked, bewildered.

Castiel had not formulated a good lie to shield Dean from the truth. Something close to the reality, perhaps. “Your brother has made enemies that wish to hurt him through you.”

“Told you you’d regret putting him through law school,” said the older woman, who had finally stopped pointing her shotgun at Castiel.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean said, brushing her off. But he seemed worried now. “Is Sammy in trouble too?”

“No. They want to hurt him indirectly. So come with me, _now_.”

“And leave Ellen and Jo here?”

Enough was enough. Castiel grabbed Dean’s wrist tightly and began dragging him towards the door. “They are not in danger. You are.”

“You’d better go with him Dean,” Jo said. “I mean, he’s probably not as deranged as the papers make out.”

“You harm that boy and I’ll hunt you down myself!” Ellen shouted at Castiel as he pulled Dean out into the side street where the car was parked.

The car doors slid back to let them in. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can’t believe Gotham’s badass creature of the night drives such a douchey car.”

“Get in,” Castiel said seriously, guiding Dean down into the passenger seat with a slight shove. Then he rushed around, slid into the driver’s seat and set the car to roaring out into the streets of Gotham.

Dean gripped the leather seats tightly, looking rather pale, most likely as a result of the speed of the vehicle. “Who were they working for?” he asked.

“A man called Alastair. I suspect you have heard of him.” Most of Gotham knew of Alastair. He was the madman responsible for torturing a string of victims in the bloodiest crimes America had ever seen. He was a mad sadist, confined in an asylum and only kept from death row due to curious psychiatrists.

Castiel knew him as the man who had, in his younger days, murdered the kind and gentle parents of little Jimmy Novak as they left church one winter’s morning. 

“Shit, my brother’s got a case against… against Alastair? Dude. He never… never told me that…” 

It was then that Castiel noticed the weakness of Dean’s voice. His paleness was not due to fear, as he had originally assumed. “Dean, were you hurt?”

“No, no. I can take a couple of goons. Might not be a superhero, but I can…” Dean groaned and slumped in his seat. 

“Dean!” 

Even at the car’s top speed, with the rocket boosters activated, the trip back to the cave seemed to take far too long. Castiel hadn’t wanted to bring Dean here, but now it seemed he had no choice.

Dean was easy to carry from the car. Castiel laid him down on the desk he had used for some technical design work earlier. He stripped Dean, but was unable to see any blood or serious bruising. He grabbed a syringe from his medical case and took some blood. Dean’s head lolled to the side. He seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness, like someone trying to stay awake.

“Stay with me, Dean.”

Footsteps on the stone staircase drew his attention for a second, long enough to see that his housekeeper Rachel had ventured down to see what was going on. “Who is he? What’s going on?”

“His name is Dean Winchester. I think he was poisoned by one of Alastair’s men. Fetch my toxin kit!”

Rachel rushed back up the stairs while Castiel alternated between analysing Dean’s blood sample and willing the man to stay alive. Integriman did not deserve to lose his brother and Dean didn’t deserve to die over his brother’s secret life. 

“Dean, stay awake. I need you to stay awake!”

“Hurts,” Dean groaned. His temperature was spiking dangerously high. 

“I know it does. But Dean, you must stay conscious for your brother’s sake.”

Dean’s green eyes blinked, struggling to focus on Castiel. “Sammy? Sammy’s in trouble?” He started trying to push himself upright on the desk.

“Be still,” Castiel said, pushing Dean back down. “Sam will be fine if you just stay awake. Just stay still.” The computer behind him bleeped an alert. It had recognised a toxin in Dean’s bloodstream.

But Dean grabbed at Castiel’s cape. “You don’t understand, Sammy’s my little brother, I gotta take care of him.”

“And I will help you do that,” Castiel insisted. “But you must lay still for me Dean.”

“Pfft, you’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Dean mumbled. “Want me on my back…”

“At least his gaydar’s functional,” Rachel said as she returned to Castiel’s side. She handed him his toxin kit and he took a brief glance at the results of the blood test before opening up the case.

“Now is not the appropriate time for such comments, Rachel,” Castiel growled as he prepared an antidote for the unique brand of toxin Alastair liked to utilise. 

“You’re the one that stripped him naked quite unnecessarily,” Rachel replied, raising her eyebrows. 

“I was _looking_ for wounds,” Castiel growled. He flicked the syringe of antidote then carefully slid the needle into Dean’s arm.

“No,” Dean struggled, even as Rachel tried to hold him down. “My brother, Sammy… Sammy! I gotta save him!” 

“What’s happened to his brother?” Rachel asked. She never usually asked many questions, but it seemed the tears in Dean’s eyes were melting even her professional cool.

“Nothing,” Castiel replied. “He’s delusional.” If there was anyone in the world less in need of protection than Integriman, well, Castiel liked to think it was himself. It was touching to see Dean so worried over an almost-invulnerable man. Touching, and a little distressing. “Dean, you must calm down. Sam is fine. Please relax.”

Slowly the antidote kicked in. Almost too slowly. But soon Dean’s fever cleared, left him shivering weakly on the desk. “Am I… in the Angelcave?” he asked, dazed.

“Yes,” Castiel said, brushing the stray locks of hair back from Dean’s sweaty forehead. “You are safe.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Sweet.”

Then he passed out.

*

Integriman arrived looking no worse for wear, though his suit bore a few scorch marks and there was dirt on his jaw, just below his mask. Those little signs were enough to tell Castiel that Integriman had faced an ordeal today. 

There was no smile, none of the usual hollow pleasantries, just a super-strong man shoving Castiel aside to get to his unconscious brother. “What happened?”

“He was poisoned. I’ve administered the antidote. He’ll be fine.” Thankfully Castiel had managed to dress Dean before Integriman’s visit. He could only imagine the reaction a nude and unconscious Dean would have provoked.

“You’re sure?” Integriman asked, cupping his brother’s cheek and peering closely at Dean with whatever super-vision he thought appropriate.

“I’m certain.”

“Thank you,” Integriman said quietly. “I owe you big time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Integriman replied firmly, hazel eyes glaring through the eyeholes of his mask. “This wasn’t just some random citizen you rescued, it was my brother. The guy’s been my world since I was six months old. There wouldn’t _be_ an Integriman if Dean hadn’t taught me right from wrong.”

“I find that hard to believe given some of his…proclivities,” Castiel said, folding his arms as he reflected on Dean’s criminal record.

Integriman’s jaw clenched. “Dean did what he had to do in order to look after me. It was more than our father did. Dean put me through college, did your research tell you that? And how the hell did you find out about his past?”

“How did you find out about my cave?” Castiel asked in return, calm in the face of Integriman’s anger.

“I always find my brother,” Integriman answered with a shrug. “It’s like an extra power. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your cave.” He looked around. “It’s very nice.”

“You can leave now.”

“Subtle. Okay, I’m going. But before I go, did you find out anything about my attackers? I’m not comfortable knowing someone out there knows my weaknesses. Until I bring them to justice, Dean is in danger.”

“You’re both in danger,” Castiel corrected. “I have a couple of leads to follow up on, but nothing concrete. I’ll keep you posted.”

“That’s it?” Integriman asked, wrinkling his nose. “What am I supposed to do, hover over Gotham keeping an eye on my brother until you give me the all-clear?”

The worrying thing was, Castiel suspected Sam might consider that a feasible option. “This is my city,” he reminded Integriman. “I protect my people. I will inform you when I have a suspect and until then I will watch over your brother.”

Integriman sighed and lifted his brother into his arms. “Okay, but I’ll take him to stay with me in Metropolis tonight. It’s just…he protected me my whole life, even when I became stronger than him. I need to return the favour.”

“I will watch over him,” Castiel said again. This was his city. Alastair was his responsibility.

“Thank you,” Integriman said with a nod. He held his brother close and then they were both gone in a blur.

Castiel returned to his computers, intent on finding out not only Alastair’s agenda, but also how he had discovered the secret identity of Integriman. It wasn’t until he was shutting down to go to bed for an hour that he realised he had left Dean’s profile on the bottom left screen all night.

Those green eyes stared at him all through his dreams.

*

Alastair was up to something. Ever since his attack on Integriman it had been impossible to track him down. Castiel was no closer to understanding Alastair’s motives or methods. Not that he ever truly understood that madman. 

Still, he kept his promise to Integriman and watched over Dean Winchester. There was, after all, the chance that Alastair would strike from that angle again. Castiel wanted to be ready for him. He wasn’t the angel on Dean’s shoulder, but he tried to check up on him once a day. 

Now that he had spent more time around him, Castiel started to understand what Integriman had been trying to say. For all his faults, Dean Winchester was a good man. He was generous, helpful, brave and kind. These things were not commonplace in Gotham.

Castiel had grown up with the notion that good people were entirely pure and noble. He had never considered himself good. But this simple man, this Dean Winchester, had debased himself early in life for the sake of raising his little brother well. The more Castiel delved into the Winchester history, the more he admired the man. The sacrifices Dean had made completely trivialised the drinking, the promiscuity and the foul mouth. Dean wasn’t even violent, something Castiel had presumed he would be based on Dean’s criminal history. But on the frequent occasions that trouble kicked off in the Roadhouse, Dean was always the one trying to calm things down. It was only when friendly warnings failed that Dean showed off his fighting prowess. He was surprisingly formidable. Castiel would have liked to spar with him.

One night, Dean finished up in the Roadhouse at three in the morning and walked out into an ambush. A gang of wannabe bikers in their early twenties with chains, metal bars, and planks of wood with nails in. Dean had kicked them out of the bar earlier that evening for hassling Jo and now they wanted revenge.

When Castiel finished with them, they crawled from the scene, incapable of even thinking about getting back on their bikes.

Dean just stood there staring at him, as if Castiel had just done something phenomenal rather than send eight posers crying home to their mothers. Castiel took a step closer, close enough to smell the sweat on Dean’s skin. “Did they hurt you badly?” He didn’t think they had, but he had been incorrect last time.

“No, just a split lip,” Dean said, gingerly wiping the blood from his chin. “Nobody poisoned me this time.”

“Glad to hear it.” It was best not to make small talk. He had no way of knowing what Sam had told Dean about the incident. He turned away, cape billowing in the night breeze.

“Hey, wait up.” Castiel paused at Dean’s call. “Not that I’m complaining, seriously, _so_ not complaining, but how come you’re still hanging around? You’re not suddenly the Integriman to my Jessica Moore, are you? I don’t have the free time to hang over death traps crying, ‘help, help, Castiel, Avenging Angel!’”

Castiel’s eye twitched with irritation. The _presumption_ of it! It wasn’t enough that Integriman thought Castiel’s number one priority ought to be his brother, but now Dean thought Castiel was watching him out of some romantic desire? “Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled. “Gotham is my city. I protect the weak, even when they insist on putting themselves in stupid situations.”

Dean scowled. “Hey, I’m just doing my best here. It’s not my fault my brother’s after Alastair and I’m not sorry for throwing those morons out of the bar tonight. It was the right thing to do. I’d have thought you of all people would know something about risking your health to do the right thing.”

For a moment, Castiel thought the allusion to his brother meant that Dean had been told about Integriman, but then he recalled the lie, that Sam was attempting to bring Alastair to justice as a lawyer. It would be difficult to explain to Dean that his brother could take these kinds of risks while Dean could not.

“If you want to get yourself killed, then fine, by all means carry on trash-talking groups of ten men. Don’t expect me to run to your rescue every time.”

“I never asked you to,” Dean snapped.

Anything Castiel could have said to that would have betrayed Integriman’s trust, so he said nothing. He walked away, into the alley.

When Dean followed, still snappish, he found nothing but shadows.

*

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Castiel raised his tired gaze to Rachel. The woman had just been leaving the cave, taking away the bloodied rags and used gauze that they had left over from Castiel’s latest brush with death.

“I have not been able to check on Dean all week, what with Alastair’s latest attempts to amuse himself. Now that it is all dealt with, I can go and ensure he is well.”

Rachel sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over her brow. “Where to start… Okay, so firstly, I just stitched your guts back in.”

“That’s a ludicrous exaggeration. My guts were not protruding at any point.”

“Jimmy, you nearly died tonight. _That_ isn’t an exaggeration. You are in no state to go saving Dean Winchester from angry bikers, little dogs and the common cold. You need to go to bed and sleep until Thursday.”

As a matter of pride, Castiel forced himself up onto his feet and continued to fasten his costume. “I’m fine.”

“Fine, if you won’t listen to my first valid point, how about the second? If anything had happened to Dean Winchester, Gotham would have been annihilated by a raging, over-protective, super-powered brother by now. Since we’re still here, I think it’s safe to assume that Dean is still fine.”

“Integriman wouldn’t go that far,” Castiel argued, “Even over his brother.” Then he hesitated, his hands still preparing the clip of his bullet-proof chest-plate. “Rachel?”

“Yes, sir?”

“How did you know that Dean was Integriman’s brother?” She had not been present when Integriman arrived to collect Dean, and the older Winchester had said nothing too revealing in his delirium.

But Rachel didn’t react like a woman caught red-handed. She smiled in the affectionate yet condescending manner she used whenever she helped him out with a tricky crossword. “Oh come on, it was hardly a mystery. You wouldn’t bring anyone in here except an ally. Dean obviously wasn’t one of your super-powered colleagues, which meant he was one of their loved ones. Integriman was all over the news for escaping a nefarious trap and saving Metropolis, then suddenly Dean wasn’t here anymore. I figured Integriman asked you to help Dean because he was indisposed and then picked him up afterwards. I just looked up some stuff about the Winchesters to confirm my suspicions.” She laughed. “Why are you looking at me like that? It isn’t as though I can’t keep a secret.”

“It isn’t that I doubt your trustworthiness for a moment,” Castiel assured her. “I’m simply astounded at how obvious you make it sound.”

Rachel shook her head. “Oh no, it would be pretty tricky if I didn’t have you around doing all the foundation logic. I just have to keep my eyes open. You let on more than you know.”

A chill ran through him at the sudden implications. Rachel must have seen his face as he rushed to the computer, because she lost her cheer. “Mr Novak? What’s wrong?”

“This was all Alastair’s doing. What could have led him to Integriman’s family? The psychopath barely even set foot in Metropolis before now. He didn’t figure out the truth, he stumbled upon it! And there’s only one person in Gotham who could have that kind of information laying around.”

He hit a key on the computer and the screens filled with the profiles of his super-powered allies. He turned back to Rachel, who was already gasping with realisation.

“Me.”

*

“You are in no fit state to drive, Dean.”

The man stopped trying to slot the key into his car door and turned drunkenly around to face Castiel, slumping back against the vehicle. “Hey, Cas. How ya been?”

“Well. Thank you. Now give me your car keys.”

Dean held them out, but let go before Castiel took them and they hit the floor with a clinking sound. Dean laughed as though it was hilarious. “Man, let ‘em go. They weren’t working anyway.”

Castiel sighed. “Ellen was foolish to let you leave in such a condition.” The woman who ran the Roadhouse was usually more protective of Dean than this. 

Again, Dean laughed. “You kidding? She’s more trashed than I am. Jo was holdin’ her hair back for her when I left.”

“Is this the result of some sort of staff party?”

“Dude, you didn’t hear?” Dean threw his arms out. “I’m leaving! I’m outta here! No more Roadhouse for me!”

“You have found a new career?” Castiel asked, as he picked the car keys up from the floor. It would be good for Dean to work somewhere more respectable. While the Roadhouse was a step up from his former ‘employment’, it was perhaps time for Dean to take another step in a positive direction.

“Yep, I’m movin’ to Metropolis,” Dean said with a beaming smile. “It’s just some office shit, but I get to be nearer my baby brother.”

“I am… happy for you, Dean.” It was usually easier to lie. Luckily, Dean in his inebriated state failed to recognise the deceit and slapped him on the shoulder happily.

“I’m happy for me too! You know the only downside is that the hero of Metropolis is Integriman. _Integriman_.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ lame. I s’pose it’s okay as long as I’m not in a bank getting robbed while Jessica Moore is in danger a country away. But he’s not as… I mean, all that blue and white he wears. You’ve got it right with the black. All black. And then that cape, the way it splits down the middle so it looks like wings when you jump off stuff? That’s awesome.” Dean leaned in to stroke the cape and ended up leaning completely on Castiel. “You’re awesome.”

“Dean, I’m going to take you home now. Get into your car.”

The man shook his head, rolling it back and forth on Castiel’s shoulder. “Nuh-uh. You’re not drivin’ my car. I drive my car.” He snatched his keys from Castiel’s hand.

“ _You_ are not driving anywhere.” Dean couldn’t even seem to stand without assistance now. “If you refuse to let me drive your car, I will have to escort you home in mine.”

“Whatever works,” Dean said with a slight hiccup as Castiel steered him over to the passenger seat of the Angel-mobile. “I am gonna miss you though dude,” he slurred as Castiel climbed in and started the car. “My creepy little guardian angel.”

Castiel said nothing as he drove to the crappy apartment building Dean called home. Rachel had continued to express her disapproval of the amount of time Castiel spent ensuring Dean’s safety. She said it had become an obsession. Castiel had pointed out that it was merely a facet of his ongoing obsession with protecting those who needed it. Either way, Rachel would surely be relieved to hear that Dean was moving out of Castiel’s self-imposed jurisdiction.

“Dean, we’re here.”

“So we are.” Dean blinked sleepily out at his building, then smiled over at Castiel. “What do I owe ya, taxi-man?”

“I don’t need your money, Dean.” Castiel couldn’t tell whether the man was joking or seriously considering financially compensating him for the journey.

In response, Dean raised an eyebrow, then slid gracefully from his seat into Castiel’s lap. “Is there anything you do need?” he asked, voice huskier than usual. 

There were at least one hundred ways to remove Dean from his lap. Castiel didn’t attempt any of them. Dean had paralysed him with lust as effectively as Tessa Thorn, without the use of enhanced pheromones.

“Dean, don’t.”

“Oh come on, you must get lonely between your run-ins with Miss Meow.” Dean leaned in so that his words brushed over Castiel’s jaw, where the mask didn’t cover the skin. “I’ll ride you better than that pussy-cat ever could.”

“Stop it, Dean. You’re drunk and not thinking clearly.”

“Or I’ve got just enough liquid courage to say what I’m thinkin’ every time I feel your eyes on me in the night,” Dean said. “Know what that is?”

Castiel shook his head. No, he didn’t know and he wasn’t going to guess.

“Fuck me, Cas,” Dean whispered. “You know I’ve taken to sleepin’ naked? Just hopin’ that instead of peering in through my window you’ll let yourself in and just…” he rocked against the costume, sliding his palms up over the bullet-proof chest-plate. “Aw man, seriously, you’re too hot to be true.” 

“Enough, Dean.”

“It totally isn’t.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s upper arms and held him back firmly. “I have no interest in a sexual encounter with you,” he snapped. His protective cup had become somewhat uncomfortable.

Dean blinked slowly. “Well don’t fuckin’ sugar-coat it,” he said indignantly. He grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, stumbling off of Castiel’s lap out of the car. But he wasn’t finished, and whirled back towards the car. “What the fuck am I s’posed to think, huh? You’ve been _stalking_ me for weeks. If you don’t wanna screw me then what the hell do you want?”

“To protect you,” Castiel replied simply, knowing already that his words would not pacify Dean. The man was inebriated and angry.

“Well I don’t _need_ your protection!” Dean yelled, still stood in the middle of the road. “Take your weird white-knighting tendencies and shove ‘em up your ass!” He stomped off towards the door of his building. “I’m done with Gotham and I’m done with you.”

The door slammed shut. Castiel closed his car door and began to drive home.

That night in the privacy of his power-shower, Castiel gave into fantasy and stroked himself to the memory of Dean in his lap, imagining what might have happened if he had given into the man’s advances.

But he was married to his duty, which made such thoughts adulterous and laden with guilt.

*

Life went on, as it was prone to doing, mediocrity punctuated by nightly bursts of adrenaline as Castiel fought for his life against the scum of the city.

During the day he was polite and quiet Jimmy Novak, maintaining the fortune made by his parents. At first people had doubted his ability. His demeanour led many people to underestimate him. After years of success though, people had learned not to question his business prowess. His only true rival was Crowley. They took turns as Businessman of the Year and shook hands cordially at every charity gala. 

Once every couple of months they met to discuss future business proposals or current conflicted interests. That time had come around once again. Castiel hated meeting with Crowley. The man didn’t wear a mask to perpetrate his villainy. The face smiling across the table at Jimmy Novak was the same face that would smile at Castiel while attempting to gun him down. It was difficult for Jimmy to reconcile both of his identities while talking shop with someone who would be fighting him if he were wearing his Castiel mask. Or perhaps…if he wasn’t wearing his Jimmy Novak ‘mask’.

“So what do you think?” Crowley asked at the end of yet another sales pitch. “With surveillance like that, law enforcement could put dangerous vigilantes out of business.”

Oh yes, because Jimmy was very much against ‘dangerous vigilantes’. “The sort of observation you’re suggesting will raise concerns about privacy.”

Crowley pursed his lips, thinking it over. “Maybe at first, but all we need to say to the people of Metropolis is that it’s better to have regulated surveillance than a super-powered voyeur looking through your walls.”

“You mean Integriman.”

“He _can_ see through walls,” Crowley insisted. “Hence the lead-lined meeting room.” He gestured to the wood-panelling, presumably indicating lead lining underneath.

“A touch paranoid, wouldn’t you say?” Jimmy asked, looking around the room sceptically.

“Integriman wants me dead,” Crowley said seriously. “I’ve spoken out against him too many times. You can’t argue that vigilantes are better than organised law enforcement. I mean, come on, Gotham has a man dressed up like a gothic angel smashing skulls.”

“I’m not sure what you’re proposing is any less ludicrous.” Not to mention the fact that any sort of power in Crowley’s hands immediately became an instrument of malice.

“At least look at the plans.”

With a sigh, Jimmy acquiesced to that little request. Crowley pressed the button of the intercom. “Be a love and bring the S.C. Folder through, would you?” he said into the microphone. Letting go of the button, he smiled over at Jimmy. “You’ll get to meet my new assistant. Looks like something from an underwear catalogue.”

Dean Winchester walked in carrying the aforementioned folder, looking smart in a pale blue shirt and black trousers.

Crowley smiled predatorily as he reached out and took the folder from Dean, deliberately brushing their hands together. “Thanks sweetheart. Have you met Mr Novak?”

“I don’t move in those kinds of circles,” Dean chuckled, before holding his hand out to Jimmy. “Hi, nice to meet you. Name’s Dean.”

Jimmy forced a smile and shook Dean’s hand. “A pleasure. How long have you been working for Crowley?”

“Not long,” Dean answered. “Just over a week.”

“But he’s settling in beautifully,” Crowley said, eyes shamelessly on Dean’s behind. “He’s a quick learner. Get used to seeing him, Jim. I’ll be bringing him to our lunches soon.”

While Dean was clearly at least a little embarrassed by the attention, Castiel could see that it gratified him all the same. And why wouldn’t it? Crowley was one of the richest men in the world. What he lacked in conventional handsomeness he made up for in charm and intellect. Dean could do – and in the past, had done – a lot worse.

There was the additional possibility that he was feeling insecure after having his advances spurned by a certain vigilante…

“I know what you’re thinking,” Crowley said after Dean had left them alone once more. “But I didn’t hire him entirely for his looks.”

“No?” Damn, but he had to regain control of his voice. He sounded far too personally offended for someone who had never met Dean before today. 

Crowley didn’t seem to notice Jimmy’s irritation. “No, I have reason to believe he’s valuable in other ways.” He sipped his whiskey. “Course, if I’m wrong I can always make use of his former trade skills.” He smirked in Jimmy’s direction. “Can you believe he used to be a whore?”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow and grinned back as he sipped at his own whiskey.

Under the desk his right fist was clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palm.

*

“Any particular reason you’re in my city watching my brother change?”

Castiel did not flinch or put down his binoculars. A couple of metres away from where the black-clad vigilante was crouching on the library roof, Integriman hovered in his blue and white spandex. His arms were folded and even with the mask Castiel could see the man was very angry.

“He’s in danger.”

He expected shock and horror and an immediate demand for action. It was one of those strange occasions where he completely misjudged an acquaintance. Integriman’s reaction was simply to roll his eyes and say, “From what? Faulty electrics?”

“No.” Castiel had already checked the wiring in Dean’s home for any nasty surprises. “A greater scheme is afoot. We must remain vigilant.” He continued to peer through the binoculars while Dean rubbed a towel over his wet hair.

After a long silence, Integriman let out a deep sigh. “You know, Dean told me about your behaviour back in Gotham.”

“My behaviour?”

“Yeah. You think he wouldn’t tell his little brother every time his favourite vigilante saved his ass? He was ecstatic. But it started happening more and more and I _know_ you, Castiel.” The very idea was laughable. “I know what your attention means.”

“And what’s that?”

“Obsession. You can’t look at something for any length of time without obsessing over it and you’ve been eyeing up my brother longer than you’ve worked some cases. I asked you to protect him. You did. I’m grateful. But he’s here now, in my city, so _back off_.”

There was something almost incestuous in Sam’s passion for his brother. Castiel chose not to mention it however, as he did not intend to commit suicide this evening.

“How much do you know about Dean’s new career?”

“You mean, did I know he’s working for Crowley?” Integriman’s mouth twisted like he was eating a particularly sour candy. “Yes. And no, it’s not ideal, but he’s just at some entry-level admin position. It’s not like he deals with Crowley directly. It’s just until he finds something better.”

“So you aren’t concerned about why Crowley might have chosen Dean for such a role,” Castiel said, choosing not to correct Sam’s assumptions yet. It was vital to keep Integriman relatively calm during the information-gathering process.

“It was hardly like Crowley walked into the Roadhouse and offered Dean a job,” Integriman snapped. “Dean’s been looking for work in Metropolis for a while. He had the same interview everyone else did and was lucky enough to get the role.” Integriman sighed, both exasperated but fond as he said, “Knowing Dean, he slept with his interviewer.” In the eyeholes of the mask, Sam’s eyes darted towards Castiel’s face. “I saw that wince. You really do have the hots for my brother. Jeez.”

Castiel ignored the comment. It was hardly relevant. “So when did Dean apply for this role at Crowley Corp.?”

Integriman shrugged. “I’m not sure. Dean didn’t tell me about it until he got the job.”

Ah-ha. “So everything you know about Dean’s new job you heard from him?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I have reason to believe Dean is nearer Crowley than you realise. He might have kept quiet out of fear for worrying you. I’m sure that even when you are in your civilian clothes you have some choice words to say about Crowley. Knowing your disdain for the man, Dean probably didn’t want to risk your disappointment.”

“And where did you find out about this?”

Castiel kept silent. Though Integriman had located the Angelcave, there was no evidence that he had connected it with the Novak Manor, some distance away. Castiel did not wish to reveal his secret identity inadvertently, and telling Integriman of his meeting with Crowley could do that.

In the quiet that followed, Integriman clearly drew his own conclusions. “You’re stalking my brother.”

“I am no-” Before he could finish, Castiel was dangling above the ground, Integriman’s hand around his throat. The man could snap a neck with two fingers.

“Castiel, if you were anyone else, this wouldn’t be a warning.” Integriman’s voice was low and calm. “But I consider you a friend, so I’m going to ask you to leave my brother alone, rather than _force_ you. Please don’t make me regret going soft on you.”

Integriman lowered Castiel gently to the ground, where Castiel pointedly did _not_ check his neck coverings or his neck for damage. He merely glared.

The hovering hero sighed and looked back across the street, where Dean had settled down to watch some television. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said “Dean’s been through enough.”

It would have been easy to continue being angry at Integriman, his arrogant certainty that he could protect his older brother from everything, despite refusing to see what Dean needed protecting from. But Castiel could see Sam Winchester under the mask and Sam was just a boy who had grown up watching his brother give everything to protect him. Of course Sam wanted to see Dean safe and happy here, to the point of excluding unpleasant truths.

“I’ll show myself out.”

That night Castiel left Metropolis in the Angelmobile, but he didn’t return to Gotham immediately. 

He paid a visit to a particularly irritating associate in Keystone City. He had a favour to call in.

*

“You’re supposed to be the fastest man alive,” Castiel said, eyebrow raised at the image of the man on the communicator screen.

“I am!” Balthasonic exclaimed, offended.

“So why has it taken you a week to get back to me?” A whole week Castiel had been playing businessman by day and petty vigilante at night, while a city away Crowley could have been doing anything to Dean Winchester.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted me to infiltrate Crowley Corp! I didn’t realise you meant Crowley Corp _Nursery_ , where security is somewhat less intimidating.”

“There shouldn’t have been much there to give you trouble.”

“Well, once I found the time in my busy schedule, it took longer than I’d expected,” Balthasonic said, shrugging. “Nobody’s more bothered by that than me, let me assure you. Now do you want this junk or not?”

Castiel pondered his surroundings for a minute, looking around the Angelcave to make sure nothing breakable had been left lying around. “Bring it to me.”

“In Gotham?” the speedster said, raising his eyebrows. Castiel was notorious for banning the other heroes from his territory.

“Yes. I don’t have the time to come to you this evening.” He was too busy hacking Dean Winchester’s phone calls of the past few months. “In the larger cemetery, by the Novak tomb, there’s a statue.”

“The angel?”

Startled, Castiel looked at the screen to see Balthasonic was already stood in the aforementioned cemetery. It really was just as well that Castiel felt he could trust him, considering the kind of power Balthasonic wielded. But the man didn’t even think about the scope of his power, too busy using his speed for literal speed-dating and attending outrageous parties in four different countries in one night.

“Yes. You should be able to find subtle stone catches by the wings. If you undo those, you’ll be able to open up the statue. That area of the cemetery is secluded, but still be sure that nobody sees you and be careful to close the statue once you’re inside.”

“And where exactly are you leading me to, Cassie?” Balthasonic asked as he fumbled with the stone latches.

“You will be in the tunnel that leads to the Angelcave, where I’m currently working.”

“You’re inviting me into the cave?” Balthasonic asked, incredulous. “My word, this must be important junk you sent me for.”

“Just hurry up,” Castiel muttered, forgetting who he was speaking to until a moment later, when a voice behind him said, “Done.”

He turned around in his leather desk chair and held his hands out to take the files. There was a sizeable stack of them and he dumped them on the desk beside his computer keyboard, taking the top one and leafing through it.

“So why send me? You can’t be that busy that you couldn’t grab these yourself. Not if they’re that important.”

“I needed someone more evasive to reach them.”

Balthasonic wrinkled his nose at that, crinkling the fabric of his mask. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you couldn’t infiltrate Crowley Corp.”

“Of course I could. But Crowley’s security wasn’t my prime concern.” Castiel skimmed the plans Balthasonic had brought him. Crowley had outdone himself with these but then, that was the benefit of a paranoid obsession, wasn’t it? It consumed you until you got things right. And then some.

“You going to tell me what your prime concern was?” Balthasonic asked, idly toying with an antique dagger that Castiel had by his weapons rack. “Since I just risked my fine bottom gathering all that up for you.”

Out of all his super-powered allies, Castiel would probably say under duress that he trusted Balthasonic the most, simply because the man didn’t think enough to be a threat. Oh, he was whimsical and easily distracted, but that almost made him more trustworthy. Integriman was shrewder than he looked and if Holy Lantern was any sharper he’d be the Holy Knife, for all that he played the clown. Princess Anna simply didn’t like Castiel very much. She helped him, but always asked too many questions and doubted the answers. So Balthasonic, for all his immaturity and nonsense, became the most trusted.

“I needed someone faster than Integriman. Someone who could infiltrate his city unseen.”

Balthasonic paled and dropped the priceless dagger. “Now hang on a moment, you never said anything about going against Integriman.”

“And I’m not saying it now. In fact, what I’m doing is for his benefit.” And his brother’s. “Integriman simply doesn’t understand the situation right now. He’ll soon realise what we’re up against, but I don’t intend to wait until he decides it’s time for action.”

“What are we up against?”

“A few months ago Alastair infiltrated the cave. I have reason to believe he discovered vital information about Integriman. Certain recent events have led me to believe that he might have shared some of that information with Crowley. But Integriman is overconfident. He’s banned me from Metropolis but I still have no intention of sitting back and waiting for harm to come to him.” He looked over at Balthasonic, who was nodding. “You understand all of this is strictly between us.”

“Sure, I can keep a secret.” That remained to be seen.

Castiel returned to his examination of Crowley’s plans. These security measures could definitely be copied into some of Castiel’s existing technology. “Did you find any of the secret personnel files?” He wasn’t even sure such a collection existed, but if it did, that would be where Castiel would discover Crowley’s true intentions for Dean. Anything connecting him to Integriman wouldn’t appear in the mundane corporate personnel files.

“Sorry Castiel,” Balthasonic replied. “I couldn’t gain access to Crowley’s personal office. He was in there chatting up one of his admin monkeys. If it were any other businessman I’d just hurtle in there faster than the eye could see, but Crowley’s a sneaky bastard. A little localised windstorm in his office would be pinned on me immediately and then I’d be knee-deep in motion sensors and acceleration mines before we knew it.”

“I understand. What did this… ‘admin monkey’ look like?”

“Hmm. Can’t really recall. Male, pretty enough.”

Castiel reached out with his right hand, still reading the folder he held in his left, and opened a shortcut on the computer to bring up an image of Dean that he had stored (for reasons Rachel had speculated on at great length). “Is that him?”

“Ah, yes. Is he involved?”

“No. He’s an innocent civilian of some value. Remember his face and if you come across him in any danger, you’re to save him immediately.”

Balthasonic raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic request, but then shrugged. “Okay, whatever you say. But, if I might ask, why is he working for Crowley if he’s so innocent?”

“He doesn’t realise the danger he’s in,” Castiel answered. “He has to be protected.”

Something in his tone gave Balthasonic pause. “You know him, don’t you?”

“I know a lot of people,” Castiel replied evasively.

“Sure, this cave is party-central,” Balthasonic said sarcastically.

“Relationships interfere with duty,” Castiel said firmly. It was nothing he hadn’t considered before.

“Whereas right now you’re keeping a cool, emotional distance and concentrating on the problems of Gotham. I see.”

“Thank you for the files. I owe you one. Now leave. I have work to do.”

Balthasonic sighed. “You know, even the Avenging Angel of Gotham should have someone to come home to.”

Before Castiel could say anything in retort, the speedster was gone.

*

Castiel returned to Metropolis within the week, his costume equipped with all the stealth measures that Crowley’s cunning little mind could come up with. Not for the first time, Castiel thought about what a waste it was that such a great intellect should reside in the head of a vicious, petty, mentally unstable little man.

Dean was wasted on him too. 

Microphones fed the audio back into Castiel’s earpiece as he watched the restaurant from across the street. It was Italian. Expensive. Crowley had brought Dean here to discuss ‘business’. It was a ludicrous facade. There was no work Crowley could possibly discuss at length with someone in Dean’s job role. This was a dinner date and there was no way Dean could be naïve enough to miss that. Which meant either he felt under pressure to adhere to Crowley’s lecherous wishes, or he was willing. Castiel had yet to decide which would be worse.

Dean had finished two glasses of wine by the end of the starter. A third, by the time his pizza arrived. Crowley still nursed his original glass of red as he ate his steak, offering Dean little pieces of it on the end of his fork. The urge to set off the fire alarm in the restaurant was illogical, but increasing. 

Crowley watched Dean devour his apple pie dessert. Castiel watched Crowley watch Dean. The hunger on the older man’s face was hardly subtle. But Dean _knew_. That was the part Castiel couldn’t understand. Dean knew what Crowley wanted from him from the start and still walked into this situation. 

Castiel had listened to Dean’s phone calls prior to his move to Metropolis. Although there was mention of their first meeting being in person, subsequent conversations between Dean and Crowley had taken place over the phone. There had been statements like, “I would love to have you working under me”, with completely inappropriate emphasis placed on the words. Dean’s responses to such flirtation and harassment had veered between anger, amusement and a sly encouragement that had pained Castiel to hear. Didn’t Dean understand that he could progress on his merit alone? Was it some ingrained habit to trade on his looks? 

When dinner was over, Crowley escorted Dean out to the chauffeur-driven car. Dean’s walk was unsteady from drinking more than a bottle of wine and suddenly Castiel realised how this night was going to end. Crowley was going to be intimate with Dean. The most beautiful man that Castiel had ever met was going to allow himself to be bedded by the most notorious criminal in the world. The thought was sickening. Maddening.

There was nothing Castiel could do. He had no decent reason to drag Crowley from his car by the collar of his expensive suit.

He didn’t even have a reason to be in this _city_. It had all seemed logical back in the Angelcave, but now that he was here, seeing exactly what he had expected, Castiel realised that he had not journeyed all this way to stop a crime or save a life. He didn’t know why he was in Metropolis at all. His only reason was to protect Dean and that was no real reason. It was an emotional compulsion that should never have taken such control of him. And yet, as he watched the expensive car whisk Dean Winchester away Castiel found himself racking his mind for a way to stop the night from ending the way Crowley intended. 

If only his actions were guided by his emotions. But he had never possessed the lucky impulsiveness that his allies seemed to have.

_His allies…_

Suddenly the solution was clear. He accessed his communicator and sent a brief message to the Holy Lantern, hoping the man would react with haste.

After the message was sent, there was actually nothing left that Castiel could do except make his way to Crowley’s penthouse and hope that his stealth measures held up within close range of Integriman.

When he reached Crowley’s luxury third home overlooking the beach, the chauffeur had already dropped the two men off and they had gone inside. It was tempting to spy inside the house, to see how far they had gotten in this minimal time, but Castiel forced himself to stay outside the security wall, perched on the neighbour’s roof.

He grew more tense as time passed, wondering if his diversion had been transparent. He had been very specific as to how the Holy Lantern was to word his message, but still…

There was a sound like a racing car whooshing past then crashing. The only sign Integriman had been there was the hole in Crowley’s roof. A moment later, the iconic blue and white costume rose up through the roof, Integriman clutching Crowley’s suit collar the way Castiel had longed to. Then he was flying back to the centre of the city, presumably the police station, with Crowley firmly in his grip.

They were gone by the time Dean came rushing out of the front door and down the path, partially clothed and glaring up at the sky.

Castiel took his leave.

*

“How’s your boyfriend?” the Holy Lantern asked, the next time that Castiel was on the moonbase. 

Castiel continued to walk on to the control centre. He had some surveillance to do that required using the satellites.

The man discarded his lollipop and flew after him, easily keeping pace in the golden glow he projected from his power ring to simulate flight. “Hey, come on now, it’s not nice to ignore your stalwart allies. Especially when they willingly forward on your gossipy messages about supervillains to their easily-angered allies.”

It was relatively easy to tune out the Holy Lantern’s irritating voice.

“Castiel, _please_. I don’t want to have to tell Integriman where I got the knowledge that ‘Crowley’s gettin frisky with his new male temp in his beach-house’,” the Holy Lantern quoted, smirking.

With a sudden flurry of movement, Castiel had the other hero pinned up against the metal wall of the moonbase, his forearm pressing the man’s windpipe back. The Holy Lantern raised his hand as if to activate his power ring, only to find it was no longer on his finger.

“It only works as fast as your thoughts,” Castiel said, holding the small golden band up under the fluorescent lights using the hand that wasn’t choking the Holy Lantern. “I think much faster than you. Bear that in mind before you open your mouth.” He tossed the ring over his shoulder and released the Holy Lantern, who dove for the jewellery in a panic.

He had been wrong to think that would be the end of it though. As soon as he sat down in the leather desk chair at the satellite control station, the Holy Lantern flew in and began chatting once more, uncaring of Castiel’s delicate calibration work.

“Just between you and me, you’re not doing a very good job of hiding your obsession with Crowley’s bitch-boy.”

Castiel growled quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll tell you. Me and Bal? We’re talking about you and your crush on Crowley’s butt-buddy. It’s sort of random, but…” The Holy Lantern tilted his head aside and peered into the distance as if contemplating, “kind of cute. Have you ever had a date before, Castiel? Do you know how to tell someone you like them?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“What I don’t understand,” the Holy Lantern continued, as if Castiel hadn’t spoken, “Is why Integriman flipped out. Does he really hate Crowley that much that he doesn’t want the son of a bitch getting laid? ‘Cause that’s petty. _Real_ petty.”

“In my opinion, you should be less concerned with Integriman’s enemies and focus more on your own.” Castiel brought up the images from one of the satellites on their big screen. “Lucifer is causing mayhem in Detroit. I can’t help but feel that he was a poor choice of candidate for a ring of immense power.”

The Holy Lantern swore and flew off to stop his nemesis, leaving Castiel to recalibrate the satellites in peace.

*

Castiel’s suspicions started when there was a successful bank robbery in Metropolis. The thought that any criminals would be desperate to attempt it in the city protected by an invulnerable man was strange enough. It was stranger still that they had succeeded, without any heroic intervention in their scheme.

Then Alastair was transferred from his maximum security cell in the asylum to a minimum security therapy centre in Metropolis without a whisper of objection from Integriman. Crowley managed to spin the situation into Integriman agreeing with his decision to give unbalanced individuals a second chance to make something of themselves and be of use to society. 

The media began to notice Integriman’s absence and started stalking Jessica Moore, the famous damsel in distress. She seemed to know little more than anyone else about the location of Integriman though.

It became worth investigating when Raphael took control of the minds of the Metropolis population and Integriman failed to show. Balthasonic was first on the scene, naturally, and fell prey to the same brainwashing machine as everyone else. Castiel, Princess Anna and the Holy Lantern were forced to fight past him to reach Raphael so that this madness could be stopped. Luckily, Castiel had plans formulated to stop any one of his allies when it became necessary. With Balthasonic, the hardest part was setting up the Taser-net before the speedster saw what was happening. Thanks to the distraction provided by Princess Anna and the Holy Lantern, Castiel was able to implement his plan and capture Balthasonic so that they might stop Raphael before the town tore itself apart.

“How did you know that would work?” The Holy Lantern asked as Balthasonic twitched in his unconscious state.

“I have studied his strengths and weaknesses,” Castiel explained as he drew one of the metal clips from his third pouch and slipped one onto Balthasonic’s costume. That should prevent Raphael’s mind-control so that the speedster would wake up as their ally, not their foe.

“Just his?” asked Princess Anna, raising an eyebrow quizzically. 

“You study people for combat weaknesses, do you not?” Castiel replied briskly.

“Only those whom I intend to fight,” the Princess said coolly.

“We don’t have time for this now,” said the Holy Lantern. “Raphael’s on his way out of the city. Come on Princess.”

They flew after Raphael at a speed that Castiel could not manage on foot. He checked Balthasonic’s pulse again, relieved to find it normal (for a speedster). He looked around at the brainwashed civilians as they looted electronic stores for the materials Raphael would need for his global transmitter. Castiel decided he ought to start restraining said civilians for their own safety.

Then he saw Dean Winchester throwing a brick through a window and his former purpose was lost. Castiel was over there before Dean could clamber in through the broken glass, dragging the man back. Dean struggled, but it was as though he was half-awake and Castiel overpowered him easily. He wrestled him to the ground while fishing the last metal clip from his pocket.

As soon as he fastened it on Dean’s collar, the interference kicked in and cancelled out the effect of the mind-control machine Raphael had inflicted on the population. Dean blinked dazedly up at the sky, then let Castiel pull him into a sitting position. 

“What’s going on?”

“Raphael has taken control of the minds in Metropolis so that people will assist his efforts to enact the scheme on a larger scale. He intends to try and take over the world.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course he does. They always do.” He looked around at the chaos in the streets. Castiel knew he ought to start stopping the civilians, but he was loathe to leave Dean’s side. He made some progress towards his goal by standing up, then holding out a hand to help Dean to his feet.

“I don’t believe this,” Dean huffed, watching the mobs carrying their electronic goods down the street. “This is the sort of shit I’d expect in Gotham… no offence.”

“None taken.” Periods of complete social breakdown had become depressingly commonplace in Gotham. 

“It’s just that one minute I’m sat with my brother, the next…” Dean’s eyes widened with horror. “Sammy!” He grabbed Castiel’s arm. “Have you seen my brother?”

“I haven’t,” Castiel replied. “Perhaps he was not affected.” The physiological changes in Sam Winchester had made him immune to almost everything that could harm an ordinary person. His brainwaves were markedly different as well, which might have protected him from the effects of Raphael’s device. None of this could be said to Dean, though.

“Why wouldn’t he be affected?” the man cried out, distressed. He ran a hand through his hair. “We need to find him. He wasn’t well…”

“He wasn’t?” Integriman had been unwell? Was that even possible?

“He’s been sick about a month now,” Dean explained. “It started out as nothing but now… he’s bed-ridden and I don’t know what to do. I was just out for some painkillers for him.”

“I assume you’ve taken him to a hospital.”

Dean nodded, looking as though he might cry. “They couldn’t find anything unusual, so I brought him home.”

“They found _nothing_ strange?” In a man who could fly and walk through fire? Either medical bureaucracy had caused the oversight of the century or something was seriously wrong.

“Nothing. I’m scared, Cas. I can’t lose him. I don’t know what I’d have done if Crowley hadn’t given me the time off to look after him.”

“Take me to him.”

“He could be anywhere,” Dean argued. “The mind control could have dragged him halfway across the city!”

“I doubt it. I expect he will be where you left him.”

Dean shrugged and started to lead the way. “I hope you’re right. He’s really not well enough to be running about the city looting. Come on.”

They ran through the chaotic streets together, making their way to a neighbourhood that was upmarket, while not the most expensive area in Metropolis. Like everywhere else, people roamed the streets carrying their technological possessions to the city centre. It was going to be a nightmare to get everything back in its right place afterwards. Luckily, it wouldn’t be Castiel’s duty to take care of it.

Sam Winchester owned an apartment in a nice building, four floors up. Dean didn’t hesitate as they ran up the stairs, keeping pace with Castiel easily. Dean took the lead as they ran down the corridor, yelling “Sammy!” as he shoved open the door to the apartment. The door had already been ajar, which wasn’t a good sign.

Castiel followed at a slower pace as Dean ran through to the bedroom. The man stopped in the doorway and ran the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. “Sammy, thank fuck. I thought… Hey, you’re looking better. You feelin’ better?”

“Little bit,” Sam replied in a pained voice. Castiel walked over to stand behind Dean and observed Integriman out of costume. The man looked more awful than Castiel had ever seen him, and he had seen Integriman after he’d fought the legion of demons with both hands chained behind his back.

“Castiel,” Sam croaked, eyes instantly wary and darting between the two men. Clearly he was wondering if any secrets had been spilled. 

“Sam Winchester. I’m glad to see you are not embroiled in the madness outside.”

“Madness?”

“This is Sparta,” Dean muttered under his breath.

With a glare at his brother, Sam said, “What’s going on out there?”

“Some supervillain’s taking over everyone’s brains and making them gather materials for his dastardly plan,” Dean explained with a shrug. “You know, the usual. I don’t know why it didn’t work on you, but I’m glad it didn’t. You are so not up to running around the city.” Dean moved to his brother’s side and pressed the back of his hand to Sam’s forehead. “You’re still running a fever.”

Sam began to cough and groan, mumbling between hacking out his lungs that he didn’t understand, he’d been feeling so much better today. Dean fussed over his blankets and made Sam lay down, his necklace brushing Sam’s shoulder as he tried to make him comfortable.

“He seems very ill,” Castiel said gravely as Sam seemed to lapse into unconsciousness. Nothing natural could have caused such an illness in the world’s mightiest man.

It was as though Dean didn’t hear him. He clutched his brother’s hand to his chest and breathed in such a way that Castiel thought he might be trying not to cry. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Dean said after a while. Tears were audible in his voice even though they were not visible on his cheeks. “My whole life I’ve taken care of Sammy. He’s done so well and I’m… _painfully_ proud of him and now he’s gonna die of some mystery illness?” He turned to Castiel, green eyes desperate. “What can I do?”

“Perhaps I could run some tests that the hospital wouldn’t have tried,” Castiel said quietly. “Certain less…natural phenomena tend to be overlooked, even in these days of super-powered battles on every corner.”

“Would you?” Dean asked, as if Castiel could even dream of refusing him when he was so close to breaking. 

Castiel pulled two vials from his belt and uncapped the syringe that he kept by them. “I will need to take some blood.”

“Whatever you gotta do,” Dean said, still holding his brother’s hand up so that his pendant ran over their knuckles. 

It did not escape Castiel’s notice that Dean trusted him with that which was most precious to him, so he was very careful as he took two samples of Sam’s blood. Integriman did not stir. It was intensely troubling to see him in this state. What could have done such a thing? This would have consequences reaching much further than Dean Winchester’s emotional state. Why then, was that Castiel’s main motivation in solving this mystery?

Oh, he had to stop trying to fool himself. He knew exactly why. It didn’t mean he had to like it or capitulate to these feelings. Still, this was a situation that required his attention.

“I will find the source of your brother’s symptoms,” he promised Dean, gazing into the man’s green eyes longer than necessary.

Then he left via the window because it was quicker.

Not for the impressed noise he heard as Dean watched him glide away.

*

The news coverage of the Metropolis mind-control situation was showing in the background while Castiel worked. The Holy Lantern, Princess Anna and Balthasonic had taken Raphael down and helped manage the chaos as the citizens of Metropolis tried to get their lives back together.

But Castiel was only concerned with two Metropolis citizens right now – Sam and Dean Winchester. The world could not afford to lose Integriman and Dean could not bear to lose Sam.

Rachel brought him dinner and reminded him of the Gotham Society Ball he had agreed to attend that evening. He asked her to send his apologies and continued working.

It was four hours before he had any hint of what might be wrong with Integriman. One of the blood samples showed signs of a very specific radiation. Now that he had exposed that blood sample to the same conditions as the others though, the signs were rapidly diminishing. He had to capture his results immediately or risk losing them altogether. Something had been in Sam’s blood, but only while the man was exposed to the source of whatever it was. As soon as Sam’s blood (and presumably, Sam) was moved away, it left his bloodstream.

After mere minutes of cross-referencing, Castiel was certain he was looking at radiation from the meteor rock that deprived Integriman of his powers. It made sense. As soon as meteor rock was taken away from Integriman he recovered from its effects. Clearly Integriman had been exposed to it for some time now though, as he had been ill for about a month according to Dean.

Something in Sam Winchester’s immediate vicinity was poisoning him with the radiation that was specifically damaging to him. That could not be accidental.

Leaning back in his chair, Castiel thought back to every detail of Sam’s abode, trying to recall if anything had seemed out of place. His memory kept recalling the same thing though – Dean’s eyes as he gazed mournfully at his sickly brother. It was such a painful contrast from when they had arrived there and seen Sam was safe, when it seemed to Dean as though he was actually feeling better…

Wait.

_“Sammy, thank fuck. I thought… Hey, you’re looking better. You feelin’ better?”_

_“Little bit.”_

Then only moments later…

_Dean moved to his brother’s side and pressed the back of his hand to Sam’s forehead. “You’re still running a fever.”_

_Sam began to cough and groan, mumbling between hacking out his lungs that he didn’t understand, he’d been feeling so much better today._

Sam’s decline after their arrival had been rapid. In fact, Sam’s decline had been rapid after _Dean_ moved to his side. Immediately Castiel had his phone in hand and was dialling Dean’s number.

“Hello?” Dean asked, voice thick like he had just been woken from sleep. Most likely napping at his brother’s bedside.

“It’s Castiel.”

“How’d you get my number? That’s kinda creepy, dude.”

“Has Crowley given you any gifts?” If not, then something even more sinister might be at work.

“What? Why?”

“Dean, it’s important. What presents has Crowley given you?”

“Okay, I’m not gonna ask how you know I’ve been…hanging out with Crowley… Um… lemme think. He got me some jeans. Bit tight around my package, to be honest.”

“I’m assuming you haven’t worn them every day for the past month. What else? Any bathing products? Something you expose yourself to every day.”

“This is the weirdest phone-call I’ve ever gotten.”

“Something on your person is poisoning your brother, Dean!” Castiel snapped, tired of this time-wasting. “What do you have on you right now that Crowley may have tampered with?”

“I…what? Why would Crowley want to poison my brother?”

There really was no avoiding it anymore. “Sam is Integriman.”

For a moment there was silence. Then, shakily, Dean said, “Dude.”

“Please try and think about the things Crowley has given you, Dean. Your brother’s life depends on it.”

“I… I don’t… Oh crap. My necklace. He said it was incredibly rare, made of meteor rock or something. What do I do with it? I’m poisoning Sam right now! Do I smash it?”

“No! Pieces might pierce his skin or it might form a powder that he breathes in. Remove it from his vicinity. It will need to leave the apartment. Take it to your place and I will be over to retrieve it for safe disposal.”

He could hear Dean moving, walking, then slamming a door. “I got a better idea, Cas,” the man said. “I’m going to take it back to Crowley and shove it down his fucking throat!”

Castiel’s hand clenched around the phone as he listened to Dean’s feet stomp against the stairs. “No, Dean, stay away from him. He’s a dangerous man.”

“He tried to use me to hurt Sam!”

“And we will stop him, but you can’t confront him alone! Wait until Sam has recovered!”

“What, so he can throw more meteor rock at my baby brother? No way. Sam’s saved enough people without my knowing. I’m the older one here, it’s my job to look after him. Anyone who messes with Sam messes with me. Just ‘cause I’ve got no superpowers doesn’t mean I can’t open a can of whoop-ass!”

“Dean, just _wait_ …”

But he couldn’t say anymore because the phone was no longer in his hand. Across the cave, Balthasonic was placing it down on a worktable. Beside him stood the Holy Lantern and Princess Anna, all of whom had very serious expressions on their faces. It seemed Balthasonic could not keep secrets after all. 

“Whatever this is, I don’t have time for it,” Castiel growled, standing from his chair with every intention of racing to Dean’s rescue.

The golden glow of the Holy Lantern’s power ring wrapped around Castiel, forcing him back into his seat. “Make time,” the man said, his jovial nature switched off for the minute.

Princess Anna lifted her golden lasso and swung it so that it looped neatly around him. Castiel did not struggle. There was little point in physically fighting the hold of both the Holy Lantern and Anna. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Balthasonic wasn’t looking at him, was staring at his feet instead as he leaned against a table. Anna merely scowled, so it was up to Gabriel to speak again. 

“We’ve been chatting and your quick-draw plan to stop Bal was a little too easy for you. Also, you told Bal that Alastair infiltrated your cave and found info on Integriman. Now Integriman’s fallen off the radar. What kind of info are we talking about here? And since you’ve got files on him and Bal, me and Anna couldn’t help wondering… do you have them on us too?”

There were two questions there and Castiel could not fight the compulsion to respond. “I’ve compiled in-depth profiles on all of my allies and enemies to be ready for any situation. The profiles contain medical histories, biographical details, biographical details of family and friends, hobbies and habits and romantic interests, and contingency plans should I ever find myself facing you in combat.”

A muscle in the Princess’ face twitched and she pulled the lasso tighter. “And Alastair had access to these records?”

“Breaking into the cave was part of a large-scale attack on Gotham late last year. Alastair is no hacker, but he had intelligent lackeys with sufficient stolen technology from Novak Enterprises to get limited and temporary access to my network. I’ve obviously increased security tenfold since then.”

“Too little, too late,” the Princess snarled. “Alastair knows everything about us now! And judging from Crowley’s choice to ship that psychopath to Metropolis, we have to assume this information is being bought and sold! You’ve ruined us and worse, you’ve endangered the people we love!”

“You have to let me go,” Castiel said, remembering Dean’s foolhardy mission. “I have something I must do.”

The Holy Lantern shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve figured out a way to stop our private lives spreading through the grapevine.”

“I’ll find a way, but _not now_! A man is in great danger!”

“Everyone’s in great danger right now, Cassie,” Balthasonic drawled, clearly discontent that things had come to this. “So work something out nice and quick so we can sleep at night.”

“Dean Winchester is going to confront Crowley over his attempts to kill Integriman!” Castiel shouted, trying to explain. “I can’t allow that to happen!”

“And why is he more important than this?” Anna demanded.

“Because I love him!”

Damn lasso. Well, at least it caught everyone’s attention. Balthasonic’s eyebrows were raised almost up to his hairline. The Holy Lantern turned a questioning look on Princess Anna who, after a sigh, loosened the lasso and drew it back. 

“Go and rescue your Dean Winchester,” Anna said. “We’ll accompany you. Crowley cannot be allowed to persist in his evil schemes.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, hoping the simple words conveyed his heartfelt gratitude. 

“Here, give lover-boy a call,” Balthasonic passed him his phone. “See where he is.”

Castiel dialled Dean’s number, but after waiting almost a minute was forced to conclude that Dean could not answer. “I don’t know where he would have gone.” He _knew_ he should have planted a tracking device on him. “Crowley has three homes.”

“And his company building,” Balthasonic piped up.

“True. We’ll start there.”

“Okay,” the Holy Lantern acquiesced, “But don’t think our little conversation is over. We’ll pick this up later.”

Perhaps Castiel would devise a solution to their dilemma by then, if he could get his thoughts away from Dean for a single moment.

*

After the Holy Lantern transported Castiel to Crowley Corp (in a toy plane, of all things), it became clear that their first choice of location was the correct one. Hired goons ran out to greet them with bullets, as if each hero didn’t have their own way of evading such things. The Holy Lantern merely stood there in riot gear made of glowing gold energy, yawning theatrically. Princess Anna used her impervious metal wrist-guards and brilliant reflexes to deflect the projectiles, some of them hitting their attackers. Balthasonic simply moved fast enough to pluck the bullets from mid-air. Castiel utilised a mixture of quick reflexes and his bulletproof costume. 

Once their welcome committee was brought down to their knees and disarmed, Castiel rushed up the stairs of the facility looking for any sign of Crowley or Dean. As soon as he came across the security office he hacked the system and began using the cameras to search for the elusive criminal mastermind or the victim-to-be.

Balthasonic whooshed into the room behind him. “Found him. He’s up in the observatory. No sign of Deano though.”

“His car was parked outside,” Castiel said. “He was here.”

Princess Anna thumped her fist into her palm. “Then I say we go and ask Crowley where he’s gone.”

As a group they hurried over to the observatory. Crowley spared them a glance when they entered, his attention focused on a wall of monitors. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.

“Where’s Dean?” Castiel growled.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Crowley replied with a smile. “But seriously, I am concerned that you lot aren’t spending your resources as wisely as you could. I mean, Princess Anna, if I might be so bold as to address her royal highness, shouldn’t you be defending your Amazon sisters from Ruby?” He gestured to a screen, where Amazon warriors were facing a horde of the summoned underworld ghouls that Ruby favoured as allies.

“And Holy Lantern, you are aware that Lucifer is currently leading a squad of extra-terrestrial psychopaths to our dear little planet, all of them wielding power rings like your own?” The Holy Lantern’s gaze darted towards the satellite footage in the bottom-right of the monitor wall.

“And Balthasonic…”

“Let me guess.” One Englishman interrupted the other. “Some terribly fast things are happening that only I can stop, in a city that’s dear to me? But I’ll have to leave right now?”

Crowley’s smug smile never wavered. “Raphael has escaped from his imprisonment. I believe some…enterprising soul told him where he could find your parents.”

Balthasonic was gone in an instant. Princess Anna and the Holy Lantern had their eyes fixed on the screens that showed their nemeses and Castiel took pity on them, humbled that they had stayed by his side this long. “Go,” he told them. “I can handle this.”

Princess Anna flew off immediately, punching a hole through the ceiling while the Holy Lantern hesitated. “You sure?” he asked, his eyes concerned behind the mask.

“Yes. Lucifer must be stopped. Go!”

Gabriel nodded and took to the sky in his golden glow. Castiel turned his attention back to Crowley. “So it’s just the two of us. What convenient timing.”

Crowley shrugged. “What can I say? Mad as he is, Alastair has _some_ good ideas.”

“So you bought Alastair’s information, then hired Dean Winchester in order to injure and insult Integriman.”

“Injure, yes. The insult was a bonus. Would have been sweeter if I could’ve nailed that fine arse of his, but hey, even I don’t get everything I want.”

“Where is he now? What have you done to him?”

The two men were circling each other now. Castiel knew he could beat Crowley in a fight, but there was bound to be some other angle to consider. There always was with Crowley.

“Me? Darling, you wound me,” Crowley said, putting a hand to his heart dramatically. “I just needed him to do a job and he did. Now my men can kill Integriman while he sleeps and Dean, well… you’ve really only got yourself to blame for how that turned out.”

“Explain,” Castiel snarled, ready to beat Crowley into a pulp.

“Well, after Alastair sent his men to murder Integriman’s brother and cause a little mayhem, you rushed to his rescue with aplomb. Nice work, by the way. But then you kept doing it. You were there every time Dean Winchester stubbed his toe. Didn’t take a genius to see you were sweet on him. _You_ , of all people. You think Alastair didn’t notice that new Achilles’ Heel? When Alastair told me about Dean he made it clear I could only borrow him. You see, Dean isn’t just Integriman’s weakness. He’s yours as well.”

“What have you done?” Castiel asked, suspecting the answer but fearing it.

“Gave him back to Alastair, of course. The butcher of Gotham has a few choice ideas about how he’s going to pretty the boy up for you.”

As Castiel lunged forward with a cry of rage, Crowley pressed a button. Castiel collided with some sort of forcefield, some invisible barrier keeping him from wringing Crowley’s neck.

“Good, isn’t it?” Crowley said cheerily. “A little something I’ve been working on. One of the projects you didn’t thieve the plans for.”

Castiel couldn’t let him get away with this, but even as he assessed the forcefield for weaknesses he was painfully aware that Dean was in the hands of a master-torturer. It was distracting and distressing and the very reason he never allowed himself to love. What was he supposed to do? What had priority?

Luckily, the decision was made for him when Integriman burst in through the window behind Crowley and knocked the villain out cold with both fists brought down together on the back of his head. As Crowley crumpled, Sam stumbled over to the button on the wall and pushed it. Then he collapsed to his knees.

With the forcefield disabled, Castiel ran forward. “Integriman! Are you alright?”

“Still fighting the effects of the meteor radiation poisoning,” the hero mumbled in reply. “But I’ve got enough juice to take down Crowley if he wakes up again. Where’s Dean?”

Castiel hesitated before speaking. His usual demeanour of efficient indifference was failing him. It hurt to tell Sam the truth. “Alastair has him.”

Integriman paled even further. “Oh god… Castiel, I don’t think I can even stand yet, you have to save him!”

“I will,” Castiel promised. “I’ll find him and I will bring him back to you.”

Sam pulled some keys out of the hidden pocket of his costume. “Take his car. Go!”

He left through the window that Integriman had entered through, gliding down to Dean’s car. It was a black Chevrolet Impala made in 1967 and it was Dean’s pride and joy. It felt wrong to be in the driver’s seat, but surely Dean would forgive him this once.

If Castiel reached him in time.

Even when driving like a bat out of hell, Gotham could not be reached in mere minutes. Castiel’s mind was split between plans for his confrontation with Alastair and worst-case scenarios. He might well be driving into new fodder for his nightmares. Dean had become too much to him, too quickly, and his loss would be deeply damaging. Integriman was right, it had become an obsession. Castiel had never _ever_ envisioned a future for himself until he had met Dean. There was something about Dean, a sort of easy acceptance, that made it almost easy to imagine him waiting in the Angelcave for Castiel to return from fighting crime.

Dean was a good man. A man with simple, attainable pleasures and no concept of his own worth in a world awash with greed and spite. Castiel suspected his parents would have liked Dean very much. In fact, if he couldn’t track down Alastair soon, they might meet him.

When his phone rang, he prepared to trace the call even as he answered. “Hello?”

“Castiel.” The soft sibilance of the person on the other line put his teeth on edge. “What a, hm, wonderful phone manner you have.”

“Where is he?” Castiel asked. He didn’t have time for games. 

“Oh don’t you worry, I’m looking after him. I enjoy having such a …quality… canvas on which to work. Do you remember my spree of oh-three, Castiel?”

2003\. Alastair had kidnapped four teenage celebrity-slash-socialites. It had been all over the media. Castiel had worked three days straight to find them, no food or sleep. He’d still been too late. He had burned the building down with the corpses inside, because no parent deserved to see what Alastair had done and if any photos had leaked to the media Castiel would have been forced to kill a journalist.

“I remember.” The youngest had been thirteen years old. 

“They were just practise. I’m going to do things to Dean that fire won’t burn away. I hope you had a good, long look at him the last time you saw him.”

If it was anyone else, Castiel would have been trying to reason with them by now, but there was no point in trying to talk to Alastair. Still, the trace on the call had not completed, so Castiel forced himself to speak, knowing that Alastair could have been carving Dean up even as they chatted. “You do this and Integriman will destroy you.”

“Hm, I’m sure he will. How does that make _you_ feel, Dean? Knowing that when you die in this…truly horrible way, baby brother will become a murderer?”

“Fuck you!”

Castiel gasped aloud at the sound of Dean’s defiant shout. “Dean!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Alastair said, “Now what have I told you about chewing on that gag, little princess? I don’t want to have to use my belt. Well, hm, not prematurely, anyway.”

“Cas – mmph!”

“I’m on my way, Dean!”

“Then I suppose I had better ready him for company, hadn’t I? You do… _like_ the colour red, don’t you Castiel? I consider it my...personal favourite. Dean?”

A muffled scream of pain made Castiel’s hands clench painfully tight around the steering wheel.

“Well it suits you magnificently, regardless of your views. Castiel, I’m afraid I have to end this chat. You see, I have some work to attend to. You understand.”

With a faint click, the call ended, just as the tracer pinpointed the source. The old asylum.

Castiel took a sharp right turn and drove as fast as he could, outdriving a cop car that seemed to think it could ask him to pull over. Dean’s car handled the new conditions surprisingly well, though it seemed there was nothing that could be done about the loud rumble of the engine as he approached Alastair’s hideout. He might as well have honked the car horn.

He equipped himself with all the essentials, then let himself in through a second-storey window around the side of the building. The basement was the most likely place to find Alastair. The man gravitated to dark, low places.

As he moved through the building he faced various goons, all of them covered in the scars that Alastair had awarded them. They were simple enough to take down.

Soon Castiel was making his way down the darkened staircase into the basement area. He came across another door and was about to push it open, when he heard Alastair’s unmistakeable voice.

“You _are_ beautiful, there’s no debating that. But beauty has never truly interested me. It’s what lies beneath that I’m interested in. Your pretty face won’t get you far with me, my dear. Though I must confess a certain…curiosity about your cheekbones. You don’t mind if I take a closer look, do you?”

Dean screamed. Castiel kicked the door in. Alastair froze with the tip of a razor under the skin of Dean’s face.

“Oh now, that’s just rude. Can’t you see I’m nowhere near finished?”

Blood had pooled on the floor beneath Dean, dripping from _indescribable_ injuries. Castiel’s blood boiled in a way he had only experienced while drugged. He felt his coherency dwindle away in a mind that was usually as sharp and clear as glass and for once, he welcomed it. Alastair had brought this upon himself.

The madman plucked his razor from Dean’s cheek with a small smile at the cry Dean released from his bloodied lips. He turned and waved the instrument at Castiel.

“Well? I don’t have all day. Or perhaps you’re _waiting_. Perhaps you _want_ me to rid you of this, hm, distraction you’ve found. A quick slash across the throat…” He caressed Dean’s neck with the flat of his blade. “Then you can return to your streets a free man. Free from all these silly little trappings of love.”

Dean’s tired green eyes darted towards Castiel, as if seeking confirmation. Castiel stared back at him, cursing the tinted eyeholes of his mask that would hide the sincerity of his gaze. If this was Dean’s last moment, he ought to know he was loved.

In Alastair’s hand, the razor rotated slightly, flat turning to blade. Dean shook with fear.

Castiel took the risk and ran forward. Alastair turned to greet him with the razorblade.

It was never a fair fight, but then, Alastair was insane. He couldn’t be expected to make good decisions.

Neither could Castiel at that point, really. The red haze seeped from every pore, driving him to greater acts of violence. He wanted Alastair to _suffer_ for what he had done.

It was when his fist was trying to spread Alastair’s face out across the concrete floor that he became aware of someone saying, “Castiel, stop right now! I’m serious!”

He couldn’t stop. Dean had suffered because of this man. He had suffered the most horrendous of indignities.

But hands stronger than his own caught his fists and dragged him away. He snarled and pulled at their grip but it was like wrestling a tank. “Hush,” the Princess said softly in his ear. “It is done. Help Balthasonic tend to Dean. He needs you.”

Shame set in as the red mist of rage dissipated. Balthasonic was unbuckling the restraints around Dean’s arms, not using his speed for fear of harming the younger man further. It should have been Castiel that reached him first. So he rushed over and began to assist, catching Dean as he fell with a whimper. Anna lent her strength to the cause so that Dean was not jostled as they carried him over to a bed in a corner. Castiel let Anna and Balthasonic bear Dean’s weight as he removed his cape and lay it over the blood-stained mattress.

“You brave man,” Anna murmured, looking over Dean’s injuries. “No wonder my friend is so taken with you.”

“We should get Lantern to airlift you both to the hospital,” Balthasonic said seriously. “He needs immediate medical attention.”

Castiel nodded. “Good idea, but isn’t Lantern busy with an extra-terrestrial invasion?”

“Pfft, please,” said the glowing man as he hovered down the stairs, dragging an energy ball roughly down the steps. “Every noob with a power ring has willpower, but none of them have my imagination. I got here minutes ago. I was just stopping a cockroach from crawling out of the door.” The ball became less opaque, allowing them to see Alastair’s snarling form trapped inside. Dean flinched. “What should I do with him while I’m playing ambulance for you two?” The Holy Lantern asked, obviously noticing Dean’s wince at Alastair’s proximity.

“Oh, you can leave him here,” Anna said with a slight smile. “Me and Balthasonic will be _very_ good hosts.”

While he was accustomed to seeing some bloodlust in the eyes of the warrior princess, there was a dark look in the speedster’s eyes that Castiel had never seen before. Had it not been directed at Alastair, he might have been concerned. As it was, he just thanked his…friends… and tried to make Dean comfortable as the Holy Lantern escorted them from the building.

The hospital was a flurry of activity. Nurses who were not at all intimidated by Castiel the Avenging Angel took Dean from him and asked difficult questions. When he mentioned Alastair’s name however, the nurses met one another’s eyes and somehow devoted even _more_ concern to Dean.

Of course, these women had handled Alastair’s other victims over a month ago. Most of the poor bastards hadn’t made it. Words like ‘internal wounds’ and ‘profuse bleeding’ had Castiel pacing the corridor long after Dean had been taken into surgery.

The Holy Lantern put a hand on his shoulder and handed him a coffee, as if he was just a normal concerned relative waiting for news. “I’ve gotta go take care of a few things, but I’ll be back. Okay?”

“Your return won’t be necessary,” Castiel replied. As if he, of all people, would require moral support.

Lantern sighed. “Okay, well, is there anything you need while I’m out?”

“No.”

“Right then.” The man clapped his hands together. “Guess I’ll be off then. Keep me posted!”

Then it was just Castiel, sat on a chair in the hospital corridor, with a small child staring at him incessantly, as he waited to find out whether the man he loved would live or die.

He hadn’t so much as caressed his hair. A small thing, but it seemed a tragic oversight now.

Castiel pulled his communicator from his pocket. He ought to call Integriman and tell him of this failure. The two most feared vigilantes in the world and they had still been unable to protect Dean Winchester.

His thumb was hovering over the button when a door opened and a young nurse walked out with a smile. Her name-badge said she was called Cassie. “Excuse me, Castiel?”

“How is he?” Castiel asked, standing from his seat.

“He’s going to be fine,” the woman said with such warm sincerity that he believed her. “That guy’s a fighter!”

“Yes, he is,” Castiel said, nodding. “May I see him?”

The woman chewed her lip lightly. “Well, usually we would say no, but…he was asking for you. And after the shock he’s been through, it only seems right to let him see you if it makes him feel safer. Come on through, I’ll show you to his room.”

Castiel followed solemnly, still cradling his hot coffee and ignoring the stares of patients that he passed. Cassie led him to one of the small patient rooms. 

“After his ordeal, we thought it best to give him a peaceful place to recover,” she said quietly as she opened the door and gestured for him to go through. “Try to keep him calm, he still needs a lot of rest.” 

Handing over his coffee to the surprised woman, Castiel thanked her and went into the room, pulling the door shut gently behind him. “Dean?”

Slowly Dean’s green eyes fluttered open. “Oh, hey Cas,” he murmured sleepily. “M’glad you could make it.”

“You know I would not be anywhere else while you are hurting.”

“I’m not hurtin’ that bad,” Dean said, his voice slow and dreamy from the painkillers. “I guess it looked a lot worse at the time.”

“Sssh,” Castiel soothed, taking the seat beside Dean’s bed. “You need your rest.” The injuries had been every bit as bad as they’d looked. In fact, some of the damage Castiel had been unable to see was the worst of all. He tried to drive his thoughts from the bloodstained bed and finally took the opportunity to remove his glove and caress Dean’s hair. “Sleep, Dean. I will protect you.”

“Told you I don’t need that,” Dean mumbled, but he took hold of Castiel’s hand and held it to his chest nonetheless.

It wasn’t until Dean was asleep that Castiel remembered Integriman. He sent him a simple message on the communicator, telling him that he was with Dean at Gotham General.

One minute later, Sam was throwing the door open and rushing into the room. “Is he… What happened?”

“Alastair inflicted cruelties upon him,” Castiel said, deliberately vague. Integriman, with all his power, could not be allowed to know the full extent of Dean’s pain or the vengeance would be bloody. “But he is healing. He’s no longer in any danger. I won’t leave his side.” He analysed Integriman as the man sat on the other side of Dean’s bed. “You appear to be recovered.”

Integriman nodded. “You know how I am with meteor rock. I’m just glad you keep your piece in that lead-lined pocket.”

Castiel blinked, alarmed by the revelation that Sam knew about his paranoia. “It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

“You don’t,” Sam said, his eyes still on Dean. “Not completely. You don’t trust anyone completely. Except maybe…” He raised his eyebrows, his look at Dean somehow becoming more significant. “I’m glad you don’t trust me.” He glanced up at Castiel. “Do you know my greatest fear, Castiel?”

He did not. Aside from a pathological distaste for clowns, Sam Winchester did not show any real fear in the face of his enemies.

“Hurting someone I care about. I’ll never forget one year, when me and Dean were on a road trip. He punched me jokingly on the arm and I punched him back. Aside from an ‘ow, watch it sasquatch’ he didn’t really say anything, but I could see I’d fractured the bone. That’s when I knew I’d have to spend my life treating the world like it was made of glass. All it would take is one bodyswap, one dose of some weird meteor rock or a magic spell and my strength could be out of my control. If that happens, you’re the only person who… not just _could_ stop me, but _would_ stop me.” Sam met Castiel’s eyes again. “I’ve always known you have those files. I don’t pry, but it’s just the kind of thing I’d expect from you. You’re the right kind of person to have that knowledge. Me and the others, we’re too dangerous without someone there to keep an eye on us. Sometimes we’re too strong, sometimes we fly too high. Someone always has to be down on the ground looking out for the people we want to protect. People like Dean.”

“What are you trying to say?” Castiel asked, his voice as hushed as Sam’s so as not to wake Dean.

Sam smiled. “I think my brother needs someone like you.”

Castiel looked away from Integriman’s smile, back at Dean’s face. “In all honesty… more and more, I find myself thinking that maybe I need someone like him.”

*

**One Year Later**

Jimmy plucked two glasses of champagne from a waiter’s tray and passed one to his partner, who was observing the artificial stars on the domed ceiling with the same awe that Castiel had felt when his lover had walked down the stairs to the Angelcave in his suit for the evening.

“Have I told you that you look radiant this evening?” He asked as Dean took the champagne flute. It was endearing, watching Dean try to sip at his drinks in the way he thought he had to at this sort of function.

“You have. Quite a bit.” Dean smirked. “Don’t think I’m dressing up like this often. I feel like an idiot.”

“You look beautiful,” Jimmy whispered into his ear. He slid around behind Dean and put his free hand on the man’s waist. “Those women stealing sly glances at us… They want to hate you for stealing me away, but they can’t. All they can do is imagine how we look together in the bedroom.”

Dean laughed nervously. “Dude, you’re gonna have to get me more champagne. This is too weird.”

“We could leave,” Jimmy offered, concerned that Dean might be seriously uncomfortable. “I can call Rachel and ask her to send the limo early.”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just…” Dean chewed lightly on his lower lip then turned to hold Jimmy’s hand. “I don’t know how to behave here. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“I don’t think you could if you tried,” Jimmy said with a smile. “Honestly Dean, most of the people here envy us both our happiness.”

“Most of the people here think I’m your rent-boy,” Dean replied, his nose wrinkling with distaste for a job he understood better than the people making those assumptions.

“If you can confirm the identity of anyone who thinks so, be sure to tell me. I’ll correct them.”

“You’re not Castiel here,” Dean reminded gently. “So no intimidating the other guests, Jimmy.”

“Oh, okay,” Jimmy said with a sigh. “I’ll behave on one condition.” Dean raised an eyebrow in query. “Dance with me.”

“Aw, man,” Dean groaned. “In front of people? I don’t know how to…” he gestured at the waltzing couples. “…do that.”

“Then we won’t do that,” Jimmy said, waiting for Dean to put down his glass then leading his lover over to the dance-floor. The appreciative gazes that used to fix solely on him now roved between him and his gorgeous partner, as was only right.

They moved slowly together. Jimmy’s shoes contained sufficient lift that he was the same height as Dean. Rachel thought it prudent, though he couldn’t understand why it would matter. It did mean that Dean could lay his head against Jimmy’s shoulder though, even if it was just so he could whisper in confusion and surprise, “They’re taking photos of us!”

Jimmy chuckled and pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Of course. I imagine one will be on the society pages tomorrow, right beside your interview.”

“I’d forgotten about that,” Dean grumbled. “I don’t get why I need to answer these dumb bitches anyway.”

“It’s all part of the mask,” Jimmy soothed. “I told you. Skydiving, charity galas, playing nice with interviewers and the occasional scandal, it keeps them all away from the truth. If you ever tire of it…”

“I wouldn’t leave you over all this crap,” Dean said, voice harsh, despite how quiet he was being. “You know that.”

“Well I was going to say you should let me know. I’ll retire.”

Dean laughed, loud enough that the other dancers turned their heads to the wonderful sound. “And miss you wearing your best suit?” he murmured into Jimmy ear. “Don’t even tease me about that.”

Jimmy smiled. “I love you.” The band picked up the beat, playing something more lively to cheer the evening along.

“Yeah, I love you too. Even the billionaire bit that dances under a fake night sky to classical music.”

Now it was Jimmy’s turn to laugh. “I was wondering when I would find someone who could accept the obnoxiously rich part of my identity.”

“What can I say? I’m a tolerant guy.”

The only way to retort to that was to dip Dean down low and kiss him senseless while the cameras flashed all around them.

*

The dark alleys of Gotham might have been a maze to visitors but they were well-known to Castiel and villains alike. Every night he pursued thugs down these streets, dodged around newspaper vendors and leapt from run-down apartment blocks. But while his reflexes were almost unparalleled, he wasn’t completely untouchable. 

This was best evidenced when he chased a small-time burglar into an alley only to find the man’s friends had prepared an ambush, guns all pointing in direction. He ducked down low, angling himself so that his thickest armour would be in the path of the bullets.

When the first shot rang out he felt nothing. He heard a pained cry from one of his attackers though. Same again for the second shot.

“You guys sure you want a shoot-out with me?”

The voice was almost unrecognisable, but Castiel would know Dean no matter what his lover did to disguise himself. He looked up to the origin of the voice. Dean was standing on the roof of the small house behind Castiel’s crouching body. His costume was black from the top of his mask to the bottom of his biker boots. His cape whipped out behind him in the Gotham breeze. His thigh holsters were empty, both pistols aimed towards Castiel’s attackers.

“Oh shit,” one of the men said, panicked, “It’s Hunter! I told you guys this was a bad idea!”

“Here’s the deal,” Hunter said confidently from the rooftop. “You guys lay down your weapons and get down on the ground so we can arrest you, and I promise not only will Castiel spare your worthless hides, _I won’t shoot you_. So how’s that for a deal? Or are we gonna see who’s got the quicker trigger finger?”

Slowly the men lowered their weapons to the floor. Hunter’s reputation preceded him. Some people said he had kicked Castiel’s ass for the right to patrol this city. Castiel refused to comment, which seemed to be all the proof they needed. It was a convenient myth, at any rate. Nobody wanted to mess with someone who could beat up Castiel. Add to that the guy’s documented ability to shoot the lock off the backdoors of a speeding van and…well. The disarmed men willingly got down on the ground.

Hunter hopped down from the roof like skipping off of the last step on a staircase. “You okay there, Cas?”

Castiel stood without assistance. “I suppose you want me to honour your promise to these…” he shot a deadly glare at the quivering men, “thugs.”

“Please. And if you could help me tie ‘em to something, that’d be great.”

“Or,” a new voice entered the alleyway from above. “You could let me take them off your hands.”

“Integriman!” Hunter exclaimed, looking up at the bold blue and white suit that somehow, didn’t shine so bright in the dim streetlights of Gotham. “What are you doing round here?”

“Hang on,” Integriman said, swooping down to pick up their criminals, three collars in each hand. Then he flew off into the night.

“Random,” Hunter said. “Still, if he wants to play garbage collector, who are we to- Mmph!”

Castiel pressed him against the wall as he kissed him, his gloved hands gliding smoothly over the leather Hunter wore. He pulled back, panting against his lover’s lips. “You have no idea what you do to me dressed this way.”

Under the mask, Dean probably raised an eyebrow, judging from the twitch of the fabric. _Fabric_ , honestly. Castiel still couldn’t convince him to use anything more sturdy for his mask. “I think I have every idea,” Hunter purred, his soft leather gloves running over the sculpted chest of Castiel’s costume. “About time I turned the tables on you.”

With a low growl, Castiel hitched him further up the wall. Hunter wrapped his leather-clad legs around Castiel’s hips and let him take his weight. They knew this position very well. The only one they liked better was in their master bedroom, Dean on his back and Jimmy taking him so slowly that by the time release came they were both screaming with need for it.

Integriman cleared his throat and Hunter dropped his feet back down to the floor. Castiel took a small step away for the sake of politeness. 

“Um, awkward,” Integriman said nervously.

Hunter and Castiel raised their eyebrows at each other, not needing to see the motion to recognise it. They didn’t feel awkward at all.

“I just flew by to check you guys were still okay for tomorrow.”

“You mean for the most awesome bachelor party that ever happened?” Hunter asked, grinning. “Yeah, we’re still game. Just don’t let Balthasonic take the whole tray of shots. He wants in Cas’ pants.”

“Additionally,” Castiel said, “I will have to ask that the Holy Lantern’s ring be confiscated for the night as he is trying to seduce Dean away from me through showing off his prowess with energy sculptures.”

“Hey now, the giant glowing slinky was pretty freakin’ awesome,” Hunter said defensively. “I was only hanging out with him for a little while.”

“No powers,” Integriman said firmly. “For anyone. The same goes for the wedding. Jess is fine with the secret identity thing, but she wants it to _stay_ secret. Okay?”

Hunter shrugged. “Okay, I guess I’ll try to restrain my cosmic powers of brotherly greatness.”

Integriman’s lips quirked in a slight smile that he couldn’t fight. “Thanks, Dean. Knew I could count on you. I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”

“We’ll pick you up around six-thirty,” Castiel agreed.

After Integriman had flown away, Hunter put a hand on his lover’s tense shoulder. “It’s just one night. We deserve it.”

“I know,” Castiel replied with a sigh. “The timing is… unfortunate.”

“You mean with Alastair back at large,” Hunter said quietly. The psychopath had recently escaped Arkham again and was currently preparing for who knew what. “Look, we have no leads on where he might be.”

“How am I supposed to relax, knowing that he’s out there somewhere? That he could be planning… ways to harm you.” Castiel had hesitated, not wanting to worry his lover but knowing that Dean had to be made aware of how serious things were so that he didn’t take unnecessary risks. “How can I avoid my duty, knowing that you can’t sleep at night?”

“I can sleep at night,” Hunter replied. “Well, most nights.” The nightmares no longer came with paralysing frequency. “I just want to stop him because he’s a danger to the people of Gotham. I’m not living in fear and I refuse to let you be ruled by him. You hear me?”

Castiel nodded, looking into Dean’s determined gaze. “How are you so brave, after all he did?”

Hunter smiled, taking one of Castiel’s gloved hands in his own. “Because I’m with you.”

As Castiel parted his lips to speak, Hunter waved a hand. “Nuh-uh, I just maxed out our chick-flick credit. Let’s go get the free burgers that vendor said he’d give us for saving his ass the other night.”

“Agreed. But first…” He pushed his partner back up against the wall. “I believe we were interrupted in the middle of something rather crucial.”

Hunter chuckled and kissed him deeply as around them, their city slept safely.


End file.
